The Songs of Baker Street
by The Ginger Midget
Summary: I put my iPod on shuffle and write something based on that song. No lyrics inside.
1. Chapter 1

Molly Hooper had a crush on Sherlock. She knew that much. She also knew that she got a bit tounge-tied around him, that her face would flush, and that her heart would start to pound.

Sherlock was nice. A bit demanding, but nice. He had a nice skin tone. And eyes. And face. . .

Molly knew she shouldn't get involved in him. She knew what he did for a living and she had already dated his archnemisis, so that probably wasn't going to make him like her any sooner. But there was something about him. She wasn't sure what, but it was a good something. She was sure Sherlock would actually see her one day. Until then, she would have to keep Molly Hooper, lab technician.

She would also have to make sure that there was extra coffee, just in case he stopped by.

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**I plan to run this for the duration of the summer. Stay tuned!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I know I haven't updated this as much as I should have. So I'm uploading two chapters of this as a special treat. **

**You're welcome.**

**"Cooties" from Hairsrpay (2007)  
This was one of the songs that they played during the credits.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. **

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Sherlock had never been one to believe in "cooties" in grade school. He knew that it was something made up to occupy young, naïve minds. He and Mycroft believed in _real_ diseases.

One year, there was a particularly bad flu epidemic. The Holmes brothers had yet to receive their vaccines, and Mycroft was getting worried. Their mum said that there was nothing to worry about, but Mycroft was still anxious.

Sherlock had never been one to worry over a simple case of the flu, and so spent his recess days examining anthills. Mycroft would stand under a tree, and isolate himself.

On one particular afternoon, Mycroft had been watching a game of the tag that was getting dangerously close. He didn't notice the boy sneaking up behind him.

When the hand brushed his arm, Mycroft screamed like a girl.


	3. Chapter 3

**"How to Raise a Child" from Seussical The Musical**

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Sherlock did not like children. He tolerated them, sure, but he could live without them. He was thinking this as he starred at the 5-year-old girl standing in the living room.

She was Mrs. Hudson's granddaughter. Mrs. Hudson had stepped out for a minute and had asked John and Sherlock to watcher for a few minutes. John had said yes.

"Sherlock," John said, coming up the stairs. "Say hi to Nancy."

Sherlock sniffed and went back to playing the violin.

John led Nancy into the kitchen for a snack. (Thankfully, there had been no experiments recently.) John got her a biscuit and was pouring some apple juice into a glass when his cell phone rang.

"Gaha. It's Harry." John looked at Sherlock, who was now standing at the mantle. "Watch Nancy for a minute, will you?" He left.

Sherlock repositioned the skull and turned around. Nancy was standing in front of him, nibbling on her biscuit.

"Hel-lo Nancy."

Nancy said nothing.

Sherlock bent over so he was looking at her in the eye. "Do you like exploring?"

Nancy nodded.

Sherlock smiled. "Then perhaps you can do me a favor."

When John came back, Sherlock and Nancy were gone. John started to panic, until he heard some movement upstairs.

They were both in his room, Nancy under the bed, and Sherlock leaning up (well, half-sitting) against the side table.

Nancy popped out from under John's bed. "I found another one!"

"Good girl, Nancy!" Sherlock said smiling, and bent over to collect a dust bunny.

"Dust bunnies?" John sputtered. "You're making her collect _dust bunnies?_"

Sherlock looked at him blankly. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

John went over to his bed. "Nancy, get out from under there."

Nancy poked her head out.

John picked her up. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Sherlock only liked children because they were useful.

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**Thanks for reading! Review and keep an eye out for more!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm sorry. I haven't posted in a long time and for that I'm sorry. Please forgive me. **

**Here's today's song:**

**"The Cuckhold Comes Out of the Amery" from "Master and Commander" **

**It's a good movie. If you like adventures on the high seas, you would like this movie. Anyway, the song's instumental. It's really good.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the song or the movie. Or Sherlock.**

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Boxing was one of the few activities he did out of the house. John wouldn't let him do inside, so he had to resort to other means.

The club where he boxed was run by a burley Irishman with the stump of a cigar hanging perpetually out of the corner of his mouth. Sherlock was one of the top contenders and the owner was always pitching against his favorites.

Sherlock won a lot of fights; that is to say, when he was there. He didn't go in all often, only when he needed the extra stimulation, or when he had to work a particularly tough case through his hands. (He preferred fisticuffs, but the owner said it was against regulation.)

The absolute best time to go was when it was closed. It was a boxing club after all, and so the sticker that claimed to project the building was practically non-existent. (If that was some big fight that made a lot of profits, the Irishman just tied his pit-bull up inside.) Sherlock would pick the lock, strip off his shirt, and box, without gloves of course.

When he was alone, he worked on his heat. He fought hard. And he always won the fight.

Sherlock knew he couldn't always win. Sometimes he purposely lost to give his opponent a chance. Then later when they came back to fight, he would show them who truly was the best.

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**Sorry it's so short. Please review. I personally think this is my best one so far.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I've been meaning to update this for the past few days, but I've hadn't had the time. **

**"It's Hairspray" from Hairspray (2007)**

**You guys could have told me that the title had a spelling error. Good thing I caught it myself. :)**

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Every morning, Anthea got up at 5:30 am. She would crawl out of bed wearing a large, baggy t-shirt and even baggy-er PJ pants. Breakfast would be a bowl of cereal (waffles on weekends, French toast on holidays and special occasions) while watching the news. She put her dishes in the dishwasher and moved on to her favorite part of the day.

This is when Anthea got ready for the day ahead of her.

She would shower, mainly because she would get home late and showering at 3:30 in the morning seemed impractical if you had to get up two hours later.

After showering, drying, and brushing her teeth, she would get dressed. Underwear, nylons, her little black dress. Foundation, bronzer, eye shadow, eye liner, mascara, in that order. A little blush to highlight her cheekbones. A little lipstick and gloss.

Then she did her hair.

Her hair was hard to control; it was a bit unruly in the morning. What she would do was wrap it around the barrel of her curling iron, let the hair get nice and curly, then she'd pin back the strands with bobby pins. Then, she attacked it with hairspray.

Anthea had spent several years to get her hair to the right consistency it had today. The curls held their shape, but her hair still flowed naturally. It was a genius balance.

Anthea actually had an odd obsession with hairspray. She had several cans of the stuff and even had one in her desk at work. She used it constantly, and even on Mycroft once or twice. (She had used it as a flame-thrower at well, when her house was being broke into.) An unhealthy obsession, yes, but she was sure it would come in handy.

She grabbed her purse and her Blackberry on her out the door. Anthea left her flat, and went off to start her day.

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**Reviews, pretty pretty please.**


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm back. Happy Week of Sherlock Homes! **

**"His Chreseburger" by Tait**

**This is a Christian band that mixed their own version of this Veggie Tales Silly Song by the same name. Except that the oringinal is sung by Mr. Lunt.**

**Discailmer: I do not Sherlock. Or McDonald's.**

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It was weird. John was getting a craving. He normally didn't get cravings, unless it was during a case and he hadn't eaten in several hours, but then he just craved normal food. Today, he wanted something specific.

John wanted a cheeseburger.

He found himself at a McDonald's, one perfect cheeseburger unwrapped and waiting for him. He admired it for a few seconds, then reached out to grab it.

His cell phone rang.

The good doctor answered it. It turned out to be a text.

I need some help. Come at once.

SH

John was going to ignore it when he heard a loud _boom_ing noise from down the street. He forgoed his cheeseburger and left.

The case took the better part of the month. And all along, he wanted that cheeseburger. So when the case ended, he went back to McDonald's and brought the cheeseburger home. Sherlock was in his room, catching up on some much needed sleep.

It was the best cheeseburger ever made.

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**You know what I want. You might as well do it, since I'm goin' keep askin'.**


	7. Chapter 7

**This one is about Molly again. It also deals with Sherlock's "death".**

**"Upside Down" by Diana Ross**

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Molly still had a crush on Sherlock. The thing was, she didn't know if it was a _crush_, or just what was left over from the feelings for him. Ever since the Christmas party, Molly felt like dirt around him. He didn't care for her; he probably didn't even like her.

But then he said he needed her that one night. That was great. Only it made Molly more confused. Just because he needed her doesn't necessarily mean he loved her. On the other hand, maybe he finally realized what she meant to him.

Molly was still trying to figure this out when John called. He said something about Sherlock, jumping, and a funeral. She didn't know how to make sense of it, so she hung up. The evening news made much more sense of things right away.

She went to the funeral and then to his grave a few days later. There were some flowers lying in front of it.

Molly stood there, not really thinking of anything. At one point she turned automatically and left, her brain seemingly to have gone on auto pilot.

The buzzing of her cell phone brought her back to reality. She had gotten a text message. The number was unknown and the words "Thank you," were the only things that were sent.

The lab technician had her suspicions, but for now, she just wanted to get through the day.

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**Please review, even if it's criticism. Tell me what I can do better!**


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm baaacckkk!**

**I know I said that I would update by Friday, but I had I show a was doing this weekend and that got in the way. But it's all over now.**

**"Imagination" sung by Harry Connick, Jr.**

**He is a fabulous singer.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. And I apologize for it's shortness.**

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Before John went off to war, he often wondered what it would be like. He now knew that war was a living hell.

After John got back, he wished something would happen. That something was Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock kept him on his toes. In between random body parts stashed in the kitchen, running for their lives from various villains, and putting up with Sherlock's, well, Sherlock-ness, he had never had a dull moment.

Mow, after the funeral, John was thinking of ways to keep his adrenaline going. He was working as a surgeon in the ER now. It kept him going and left him sleepless, just as many cases had done. He wondered how long it would last.

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**Want more? Read the other story I'm currently working on, _Snow_. It's another Sherlock fanfic.**

**Oh, and reviews would nice. ;)**


	9. Chapter 9

**My plan is to update like crazy these next two weeks before school starts. Once that happens, I'll only be posting on the weekends. **

**Theme song from "The Practice"**

**For the record, I've never seen the show.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.**

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Sherlock loved London. He had been raised in Sussex, but London was his true home. He loved everything about it, or everything about it that he had not deleted.

One of the things he would do was to go and walk around the city. Sometimes he would sit on a bench or at a café with outdoor seating. He would close his eyes and listen.

London was a mybrid of noises-cars honking their horns, people talking in all sorts on languages, cell phones ringing. One day Sherlock heard two soft pop-gun shoots, if he wasn't mistaken. They were from two blocks over and shot in an ally way, but because the area he was sitting in was so crowded and noisy, nobody else heard them.

It often surprised him how many people didn't listen to what was around them. All they did was hear.

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**Review, peeps!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry for the wait. I didn't like the last chapter I wrote, so I wrote a different one.**

**"Cruella De Ville" from Disney's _101 Dalmations_**

**This is my first Irene fic, so be nice.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.**

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Irene scarred John a little. He knew that he shouldn't be surprised, with all the strange people he had come into contact with through Sherlock, he had become desensitized to their strangeness. But seeing Irene for the first time in her house had given him a wake-up call.

What scarred him were the lengths she was willing to go to keep things secret. She had drugged Sherlock for God's sake! And over a phone, too!

But John realized that she was human, more human than Sherlock, really. She had fallen in love with him, and while the feeling probably wasn't mutual, it showed that there was a match for Sherlock.

Too bad she was dead.

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**I know that was short. Like, really short. But it was nice, right? Tell me via reviews!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey. Here's the next chapter update thingy. I hope you like it.**

**"Cinderella, Darling" from _How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying_**

**Disclaimer: I don't Sherlock. Unfortunately.**

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Molly couldn't believe it. Her boss just asked her out.

It wasn't a "We're-going-to-talk-about-your-future-here" dinner. It was an "I-like-you-and-want-to-get-to-know-you-better" dinner. The thing was, Molly wasn't sure if she liked _him_.

Her girlfriends didn't care, however. (Strictly speaking, they were just people she sat with and talked with at lunch.) The opportunity to go out with her _boss?_ It was too good to be true.

"Just imagine what you could do!" Jeannette said. "You could have some of his power!"

But Molly didn't _want_ power. She liked to being told what to do, even if she disappointed people.

She told her girlfriends she would think about it.

At the end of the day, she went home and called up her boss. She said, no, thank you, she had plans for the night. She hung up and ended up watching _The Graham Norton Show_, which she didn't really like. She sat on the living room coach and waited. She waited for her prince to show up.

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**I know it's short. Reviews would make me feel better. ;)**


	12. Chapter 12

**I'm updating once again. If you haven't noticed, we're in the double didgits now. Yeaaaaaaa!**

**"Zoosters Breakout" from Dream Work's _Madagascar_**

**So, this is the first drabble in this series where John and Sherlock actually interact. Sort of. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock.**

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"John! JOHN!" Sherlock clapped his hands together and giggled. "I've got it! Oh, I've got it!"

"Got what?" John asked, coming into the parlor from the kitchen.

"The answer, John! Oh, and it's marvelous, you're going to love it when I tell you."

"What's the answer?" John was feeling a bit lost.

"It's perfect!" Sherlock muttered cheerfully to himself as he put on his coat. "No one's going to believe me when I tell them!"

"I'll believe you." John offered.

"Lestrade is going to flip his lid when I tell him. And Anderson! Oh! I can't wait to see the look on his face!" Sherlock yanked open the door and sprinted down the stairs.

"Sherlock, what's the answer?" John followed and slammed the door after him.

Baker Street became quite once again.

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**Did you like? I know I did. :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello everyone. I decided that this drabble will be the last one. I think that it would be too much work to do it doing the school year, and there's other stuff I want to work on, so I'm going to end this. I sort of don't want to, but it needs to be done. **

**"Book 'Em, Danno" suite from _Hawii Five-O_**

**Speical thanks to willshakespeare-immortalbard, Rouge Singer, and Ebony-Ink-Stain for reviewing, following, and favorite-ting this drabble series. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock.**

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Sherlock ran down the alley way and skittered around the corner. His arms were pumping and his coat was flapping behind him like a cape. He briefly considered ditching it.

The person he was chasing knocked over some empty trash cans on purpose. Sherlock leapt over them.

He reached out to grab the perp's coat. The perp tan faster and _just_ got out of his grasp.

Sherlock pushed himself to the limit. He was _so _close. So . . . close. . .

Irene dropped down from the air duct vent. She went into a crouch and scanned the hallway. She pulled out a compact full of foundation and blew across the surface. The power flew off and disturbed the infrared sensors crisscrossing the length of the hallway. She put the compact back into her pocket.

It took Irene about three minutes to flip, twist, and crawl her way through. She sprinted the rest of the way.

The gallery, oddly enough, had no security. It had a camera, but she had disabled the entire system before entering the museum itself. There was one glass case in the center of the gallery.

She walked up to it. The Hope Diamond twinkled back at her under the security lights. Irene cut a circle in side of the case and pulled out the priceless jewel.

WHOOP! WHOOP! WHOOP!

Irene jerked her head up. That was the alarm How in the world . . .?

"Freeze!" A pair of security guards stood in the entrance way of the gallery.

Irene raised her hands. This was going to be a hard one to talk out of . . .

John didn't understand. It had been almost a year. He should have let go by now.

Well, maybe not let go. But still, it hurt to think about him.

You know, people were still talking about the trail and Richard Brook and all that stuff eight months later. It was like they still couldn't believe it. Sure, it wasn't as big as it had been, but people still brought it up.

John didn't see Mycroft anymore, or Lestrade. He still kept in touch with Mrs. Hudson, and now he had a steady girlfriend. Life went on.

Today, John decided to make a promise. A promise to Sherlock. He would keep his legacy alive. People would listen and hear the truth. They would tell other people and soon Sherlock would be alive in everyone's minds and hearts.

John knew that Moriarty was real. He believed in Sherlock Holmes.

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**Thank you all for reading this. Feel free to review and/or PM me with your comments. I'm still working on _Snow_, so check that out too. I've enjoyed working on this seires and I hope you enjoyed too. **

**Ta ta for now!**

**The Ginger Midget**


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